I’d suspected as much from the moment Marquis Offenburg suddenly turned wary of me, but having it confirmed point-blank by the grand duke still left a bitter taste in my mouth. The grand duke seemed surprised by my reaction.
"So you already knew."
"His attitude toward me was a bit strange."
The marquis had not only entrusted Lily to me but even lent me the support of the Offenburg Knights, so why was he suddenly wary of me now? Well, I already knew the answer.
He’d planned to make use of me, given my closeness to the crown prince.
Lily was an excellent card in the marquis’s hand.
But turning wary of me now meant his plans had gone awry. Anyone who naively swallows a prince’s show of goodwill whole won’t survive long in the world of nobles.
"Am I really of high enough standing to be contending with Marquis Offenburg for power?"
Isn’t it laughable that a great prince of the north, holder of three territories on the level of Rosenheim, would bother keeping the lord of a tiny village of fewer than 300 people in check? To check someone is to regard him as an equal.
"No. What he’s wary of is Altringen’s power growing too great through you, a member of my faction. The marquis meant to expand his influence through this civil war, but he’s displeased at having been pushed out of the main effort."
"Well, anyone can see the main force of this war was His Highness the crown prince, no?"
"Correct. The western princes’ army led by Franz took Radensdorf, after all."
The marquis had probably intended to use Lily to exploit the crown prince’s political weakness, the bastard rumor. But by capturing Radensdorf, the crown prince had won recognition from the nobles for both his military achievement and his legitimacy.
For the marquis, it was an unsatisfying ending in every respect. On top of that, it was only natural for him to guard against the growing influence of me, the crown prince’s subordinate.
By any reasonable measure, I was single-handedly racking up merit at an insane pace compared to an ordinary noble, the kind of merit that would normally take nearly three generations to accumulate. He’d judged me dangerous.
Now I finally understood the marquis’s behavior.
"The western princes are reasonably favorable toward you, but the rest of the princes are not."
"And will my dear and noble grand duke shave down my merits for their sake?"
"Of course not. I can’t betray the trust of the Baron of Rosenheim."
Huh? Come again?
The Baron of Rosenheim?
He couldn’t mean the late Sir Constance. Wait, was he referring to me? The grand duke turned to look at me with a perfectly nonchalant air. My eyes darting about, I asked again, just in case.
"Forgive me, but does ’Baron of Rosenheim’ happen to refer to me?"
"Is there any noble present worthy of a barony besides you?"
"Hold on, are you allowed to just drop that so casually in a private audience?"
"Why? Deflated because it was easier than ordering a beer?"
Comparing it to beer, the drink of commoners, and not even wine.
The grand duke chuckled and turned his gaze back to the window. It was absurd that there would be no grand ta-da, no ceremonious announcement in front of the nobles a week later.
I was so dumbfounded that even my reaction came out half-baked.
I felt like I’d been ambushed somehow, but I expressed my thanks all the same.
A title is never a trivial thing.
"Yes, thank you. I’ve finally become a baron."
"With your abilities, you should be able to climb to count without trouble. Don’t settle for a mere barony."
"Receiving a title in the first generation is already unprecedented. If I climb all the way to count, I’ll be surrounded by nothing but enemies."
"And you’ll grow that much stronger. As a prince no one can touch lightly."
The grand duke seemed convinced that I would grow powerful.
Why did he place this much faith in me?
[My royal father, who never trusted nobles, trusts only one: you.]
The crown prince’s words came back to me. Those with a conspiratorial disposition don’t trust others. And yet the grand duke had granted me considerable authority and power, and had even cleared away the nobles’ interference for me.
"Why do you place such trust in me?"
I wanted to know the reason.
The grand duke moved away from the window and sat down on the office sofa. He took a sip of wine, appearing to ponder carefully how to answer me. Then he set down his glass with a wry smile.
"Until now, I have sorted nobles into two kinds: those who flatter and those who don’t. In my days as crown prince, I was surrounded by nothing but sycophants who wanted only privileges and shirked all responsibility."
"Hmm, I’m fairly sure I’ve flattered Your Highness a time or two myself."
"If that’s your idea of flattery, you have a long way to go. A sycophant’s tongue is far more honeyed."
Not something I particularly wanted to learn. Even the crown prince had once been taken in by sycophants and grown wary of me. It was right after the Euz War. The crown prince still felt deeply ashamed of that episode.
"You are Altringen’s sword, the one that strikes down sycophants."
"You value me more highly than I thought. What will you do if I have a change of heart?"
"A change of heart? No, you could never turn your coat. Am I wrong?"
Hmm, the grand duke had my disposition figured out precisely. I’m not so much a man who prizes loyalty as one who feels a guilty conscience and a powerful revulsion at the thought of betraying someone who has placed their trust in me.
Though since becoming a noble, even that disposition has honestly become selective. In a world crawling with schemes and conspiracies, it’s far too cutthroat a place to foolishly preach loyalty alone.
As long as the royal family doesn’t betray me, I won’t betray the royal family. But if I ever see even the slightest sign of betrayal, I’ll have no choice. I’ll resist, even if it means mobilizing every connection I have.
"I intend to send Johannes to the imperial capital around next summer."
"You mean the Duke of Altringen? But wasn’t his treatment strictly confidential?"
"Of course it’s confidential. I’m telling only you."
He was blithely spouting state secrets right in front of me.
Upon signing the surrender document, Johannes had been stripped of the ducal title of Radensdorf. In its place he received the highest court title, one normally reserved for royalty alone: the title of Duke of Altringen.
From duke of the vast Radensdorf to a duke of Altringen in name only, his standing had dropped several rungs, but as treatment for a royal who raised a rebellion, it was quite generous.
In other realms, rebels are dragged to the scaffold without a second thought, but here, executing a noble is rare even after rebellion. The idea is that defeat alone drags one’s honor through the mud, and that is punishment enough.
It’s an unwritten rule that nobles avoid killing one another whenever possible. Those who break that rule are treated as barbarians, and every noble in feudal society turns hostile toward them. The worst possible reputation comes free of charge.
But why send Johannes to the imperial capital?
The imperial capital means Vienna, the capital of the Archduchy of Austria.
It’s the stronghold of the Habsburgs and the place where Emperor Friedrich sits coiled. All I’d heard was that it’s a magnificent, tremendously prosperous city, grand enough to be called the capital of culture.
Did sending the duke there mean he was to be a hostage?
Or had there been some diplomatic agreement?
Whoever it turned out to be, the noble sent along as the duke’s escort was in for a world of misery. I assumed it had absolutely nothing to do with me. Then the grand duke gave me a meaningful smile and said,
"You will escort Johannes."
Damn it, that escort was me?